Exciting news! The first issue of ink+PAPER is out this week. This is a brand new comics magazine put together by the fabulous David O'Connell, and it includes a photo essay by yours truly. I haven't seen a hard copy yet, but David assures me it looks fantastic. That's his cover illustration up there. London Underground nerds can have fun trying to work out which tube line he's illustrated, but it's a bit of a trick question because he's incorporated several elements from different tube lines (the seating is the Design Research Unit's 1970s District Line moquette design, though).

If you're in London, come to the launch party at Orbital Comics this Friday from 7:00pm.

ink+PAPER will also be on sale at Saturday's Comiket fair on Saturday as part of this year's Comica Festival (another brilliant line-up of events this year). This year Comiket is being held at the newly refurbished Bishopsgate Institute. I'm looking forward to seeing what it looks like.

If you can't make either of those events, it will be on sale in Orbital Comics and Gosh Comics, or you can buy it online from here.

The other big comics news this week is of course the release of Nelson, the ambitious comics anthology/exquisite corpse story told by over 50 of the UK's best comics creators, with all profits going to homeless charity Shelter. (You may remember I made some fan art of the cover.) I've been looking forward to this one for months, not just because loads of my friends are involved or because it's for a good cause, but because everything I've seen of it speaks to the dedication and creative brilliance of the people involved. I'm very excited be getting my hands on a copy tomorrow, courtesy of Alison at Space In Text. (I will be buying a copy as well. I just haven't decided whether to pick up a hardcover from the Blank Slate table at Comiket on Saturday, or one of the Frank Quitely bookplate softcovers from the Nelson launch/signing at Gosh Comics.)

November 19-25 is Nelson Week, so look for more about the book then. I strongly suspect that you're going to be hearing a lot about it in the run up to Christmas!

Last week there was a launch party for David B's Black Paths, at Clerkenwell Tales, a lovely little bookshop in Exmouth Market. I'd only heard about the launch the previous evening, which meant I was a bit late in getting a place — in fact I didn't get a response until 6:30 that evening, which was exactly when the event started. Oops! As a result, I entirely missed David B being interviewed by Paul Gravett, which was a bit annoying, but at least I got there in time for some free booze, and also a chance to catch up with Dan Lester before he flew off to teach English in South Korea the following day, as well as lots of other people.

I did have a flick through the book, however, and it looks pretty good, with lovely paper stock and full colours throughout. I have to say publisher Self Made Hero really excel at good production values, compared to some other publishers. Having only seen David B's work in black-and-white, where it works so well, it was nice to see that it translates well into colour too (you might think that's a given, but it isn't always). I definitely want to give it a proper read at some point, even though a couple of friends read it over the weekend and said that although it's visually stunning, the story isn't very compelling. I wondered whether this might partly be to do with translating a work from another language, and having read this fascinating post by the book's translator, it seems quite likely. On the other hand, I do remember that, as much as I appreciated the artwork in David B's Epileptic, the story did lose me along the way (although it's been almost 10 years since I read it, so I may feel differently now).

After waiting for friends to get their copies signed, I went to get some food with Woodrow Phoenix, Rob Davis and Glyn Dillon, which I mention only because it gives me a good excuse to plug Nelson again, as I discovered over dinner that even more amazing creators have signed up to participate. It's a shame I can't say who, because I'm sworn to secrecy, and if I told you I'd have to kill you, and there's no easy way to round up a bunch of mostly anonymous readers on the internet and quietly bump them all off, but trust me when I say NELSON IS GOING TO BE AWESOME. Glyn's new book (his first foray into comics publishing since, what, the 90s?), The Nao Of Brown looks likes it's going to be really good, too. If you want more proof than just my word, then have a long browsing session on Glyn's blog, which is chock-fulla-pretties. There's more on Space In Text, too.

Monday saw the launch of Reinhard Kleist's Castro, in the gallery upstairs at Foyles, which had a bit more space than Thursday's bookshop, but wasn't quite as well attended — even though there was the promise of free mojitos! And such promise: this is the pile of mint and limes at the start of the evening. A couple of hours later, the mint was all but gone and there were only about six limes rattling around the basket. The mojitos seemed to get exponentially stronger, too (my third drink was stronger than the first two put together!).

I took a few notes while Reinhard was being interviewed by Paul, which I've tried to knock into some kind of sense rather than the stream of consciousness that my notes read like. I should say to start with that I've not read Kleist's biography of Johnny Cash yet, and I'm not especially fascinated by Fidel Castro, but I am quite interested in the general history of Cuba, as it seems like a interesting country, albeit often romanticised, and in a constant state of some sort of flux (plus, I'll be honest, it is hard to say "no" to free mojitos!)

Kleist himself admitted that he initially had little interest in Cuba — "Cuba was for the old guys" — but he ended up visiting after a German editor asked him if he wanted to go and make a book about another country. This book was Havanna, which doesn't seem to have been translated into English (yet). In Cuba, he sometimes had trouble understanding people because "the Cuban people have horrible Spanish. It sounds very beautiful but they swallow all the syllables" (this made everyone laugh).

Kleist is pretty good at talking in snappy, visual soundbites. Describing some of Castro's early life, he said that "Havana university must have been like a Mafiosi melting pot" and that Castro has a nose "like a Greek statue." He'd wanted the art to look "a little bit more rough" than his art in Cash, but to keep it black-and-white because "you can do so much with black-and-white and create such a strong atmosphere." I'm inclined to agree, but I also think you can create strong atmospheres with colour too. His Greek publisher felt strongly enough that it should be in colour that they showed him a colourised version, but he hated it. (I'm curious about that, because Cuba is so strongly associated with colour in almost all media. Havanna is full colour, though, so maybe that'll get an English translation soon.)

The book was lettered in Photoshop, and Gravett pointed out the speech balloons are more "emphatic" than in Kleist's previous work. Kleist admitted that in earlier work he had tried to "erase" the balloons, but it didn't really work, as he realised that "text is important". This was an interesting point for me, because one of the things that has put me off reading his books are the cluttered-looking speech balloons — which is only exacerbated in something that is filled with pages of long political speeches, but is evident even in earlier work like Havanna (see pic below). I also noticed from looking at some pages displayed on the gallery wall, that, although Castro is lettered with capitals, there is also an inconsistent use of lower-case i's for no apparent reason other than whimsical idiosyncrasy, which doesn't really fit the general theme of the book and therefore irritated me a bit, because it kept distracting me from what was being said. But maybe most other people don't notice stuff like that.

The interview also touched on some other aspects, such as Cuba's ongoing political situation, and whether the state of the country was doing good for people or getting more corrupted. "Everything raised more questions." There were some comparisons made with China, and Kleist said "we might have a Chinese edition, but I don't know if we'll be allowed to print it." He also mentioned once being asked to sign a copy of Castro "to Fidel" and then learning that it was actually for Castro himself, and that Castro already owned a copy of Havanna, which was a bit nervewracking to discover.

The story itself is a fictionalised biography of Castro, using the character of a young idealistic journalist from Germany, whose look was based on a young French journalist that Kleist saw at an event in Cuba. (I don't know if the young man ever learned how he'd been immortalised), and of course other characters like Che Guevara appear in it as well. According to Kleist, in soundbite mode again, "the main point of the story is how to deal with your ideals" because "there is always another position and you have to show both if you want to be objective". With that in mind, I am quite interested in reading the book now. I quite like his artwork, which in moments reminded me of such disparate artists as Jose Muñoz, Hugo Pratt, Scott Morse and even a touch of Paul Pope in the brushier panels. Overall, it was a pretty interesting evening — and I'm not just saying that because of the free cocktails! Thanks once again to Self Made Hero for the invitations.

I haven't been buying books lately, due to a slight lack of funds, and also having far too many books that I haven't read yet, or haven't read for many years. So I've decided on a new-book moratorium, even though there are so many brilliant books coming out at the moment, at least until I've read (and got rid of) some of the old ones. However, there was one book I had to buy, because I'd been waiting for it to come out for about six years, and that was Carla Speed McNeil's latest Finder book, Voice.

I've been a huge fan of Finder ever since I first discovered it through Sequential Tart in 1999 (side note: I'm sort of amazed that ST still has the same design it started out with in 1998, and that the design still actually works). I was hooked from the first issue I read, enjoying the mix of slice-of-life observation and densely detailed science fiction setting. The deceptively simple artwork was full of intriguing background details that hinted at further stories, and I couldn't wait for each issue to come out just so I could find out more about the world that Carla had created. Even though I had many of the single issues, I bought some of the trade collections too because I loved the end notes printed at the back of them; they were like a director's commentary of extra background detail which added to the richness of the experience. After reading them I always feel a keen desire to visit the places, which is always a good sign that the environment has captured something in my imagination. I was even enough of a fan to buy several pages of original artwork from Carla several years ago (although three of them sadly went missing in the mail and never showed up).

As much as I enjoyed Voice (a lot, and even more so on the second read), there are elements of it that would definitely be very confusing if you'd never read any Finder before. So this post is really an an attempt to convince you all to go and buy Volume 1 of the Finder Library. It's actually really good value, collecting the first 21 issues of the series for only $25, which is probably about twenty quid in UK money at the moment — books don't seem to follow the exact rate of exchange, but that's less than £1 an issue, which is brilliant value. There's something in it for everyone and I promise you you'll thank me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to a book launch. Which I will try to write about later this week…

I was at Conway Hall for about the last 15 minutes of the (International) Alternative Press Fair on Sunday, and after browsing tables in the very cramped aisles, I found myself taking photos of the lovely interior (I do rather love this building!)

I didn't have enough time to buy much, but I highly recommend Onion Soup by Dan Berry (buy it here), and The End of The Line by Woodrow Phoenix (not sure where you can buy that one from).

And on Monday I saw lots of things in Margate but I haven't been through all of my photos yet (I actually used my camera for some of those, rather than just my phone)

Here's something that looks a bit like a cooling tower, taken for the Cooling Tower Appreciation Society.

And here are some pylons.

I am fully aware that most people go to MCMExpo to take photos of the cosplayers. I don't care. Pylons are beautiful. And they were on my mind that day, due to several articles being posted and discussed: pylon design competition; design appreciation; these elegant ones; these ugly ones; this; also this. OK, I'll shut up now.

And here's Warwick Johnson Cadwell framed by some marvellous clouds (the skies have been fabulous lately).

And, um, that's it from MCMExpo this time. (here's last year's reports from MCMEXPO: part 1, part 2)

Last night my friend Viv Schwarz had a launch party with Alexis Deacon to celebrate their new children's book A Place To Call Home. Viv was one of the winners of this year's Booktrust Best New Illustrators Award, and already has a few great picture books out, and she writes one of my favourite blogs (she posts a lot of interesting work-in-progress and says sensible things about ebooks, and makes up bread recipes that actually work!)

The party was at Colour Makes People Happy, a nice posh paint shop in East Dulwich which also sells nice plates and books.

Sarah has a much better post about what happened and who was there, so I'll just leave you with some photos.

Here are Viv and Alexis making their official launch speech. Alexis appears to be phasing out of this dimension, but to my knowledge he's not actually a pan-dimensional being (I've only met him a couple of times, though, so maybe he saves that revelation for people who've known him longer).

Viv was wearing a fab Moomin dress that I didn't manage to get good photos of because she was moving around so much being the life of the party! I did manage to snap the fab vintage dresses that Sarah and Holly were wearing though.

Colour Makes People Happy is in a long building, with four or five rooms going one-behind-the-other. Viv has her studio in one room, which is nice and light, although a bit chilly.

Even further back, there's a workshop with a paint-spinner for making spin paintings. I used to love making those when I was a kid — I bet it would be fun to have another go.

This is Charles, who I made for Viv after she saw Maurice Morris and decided she wanted one of her own. Last time I saw him he had pride of place surveying her studio.

And speaking of hamster joy (which I only mentioned in the title, but they do feature in the book), here's a lovely post over at Quad Royal (and yes, I totally nicked the title of her post to use it in the title of mine. It seemed too apropos not to.)

pic by Joe Gordon, with thanks

AJ: There's a very obvious ligne-claire influence on your work, which you've made no secret of, but I'm curious about any other influences on your drawing. From what I've seen of your adaptation of The Tempest (here and here) — which I've not read in full — the line was much more detailed, and reminded me far more of artists like Arthur Rackham and William Heath Robinson. Are there any other artistic influences besides the obvious ligne-claire stylings of Edgar P Jacobs and Hergé who you would like to namecheck?

GE: Arthur Rackham and Heath Robinson are two of my favourite artists, and were my gateway into discovering Edmund Dulac, Kay Nielsen, Harry Clarke and others of that era. That may seem a long way from Hergé or Yves Chaland, but there's a sensibility that connects them all in Japanese print work, which I used to sit and copy for hours in my mid-teens. Those prints, by artists such as Kuniyoshi and Hiroshige are very ligne claire, and they also influenced the Art Nouveau and Art Deco movements. Another big influence on my comic work is Richard Corben, I'm aware of him within my work but I doubt it shows through the Hergé that I suspect blinds the casual observer. I used to want to be like Brian Bolland, but I'm all right now (I still love his work). The artist I got compared to most in the early 90s was probably Bryan Talbot, which is fine by me!

AJ: Was it a conscious decision to move towards the ligne-claire style because of the style of the story you were telling, or was it more of an organic change?

GE: It was a conscious decision. I kind of decided to give up wanting to become a "proper comic artist" – I realised I didn't want to be a pen for hire, I wanted to indulge myself, so it was a matter of deciding the kind of comics I loved most, and wanting to do my own. There are a lot of good reasons, I think, for doing this kind of adventure comic in ligne claire. Having said that, after the complexity of my style in The Tempest, I did clean up my art a bit – I did a little strip for Rol Hirst's The Jock that is a sort of missing link between The Tempest and The Rainbow Orchid.

AJ: Speaking of influences, you mentioned on Twitter a while back that your narrative was quite influenced by playing the Broken Sword computer game. Are there any other writerly influences people might not guess at?

GE: I've mentioned the authors H Rider Haggard, Jules Verne and Arthur Conan Doyle before – they really are the biggest story influences on The Rainbow Orchid. I like film directors who also wrote their own scripts, especially Akira Kurosawa and Charlie Chaplin. They solved story problems visually and through character. That is always a background to my writing, but I don't think I've had the time to really indulge in that area of things yet — I haven't given myself enough space. But I think there are probably one or two moments where I'm channeling that spirit, if you like.

I want readers to get lost in the book, and that's what happened to me when I read King Solomon's Mines, or Asterix and Tintin, and when I played Broken Sword for the first time. From Hell is another example — I forgot I was reading a comic, which is a lovely feeling.

AJ: It's interesting that almost all of the storytelling influences you mention are prose or cinema writers rather than comics writers, and From Hell is not exactly a typical comic — or at least, it wasn't when it came out; being as literary as it was. Are there any comics writers you particularly admire?

GE: I don't think there are any comic writers, separate from artists, that have left any kind of an indelible mark on me, apart from Alan Moore to some degree. Most of the comics that have had any kind of impact are the product of a singular vision – Hergé, Jacobs, Lewis Trondheim, Hiyao Miyazaki, Osamu Tezuka and all that. One of my very favourite comics was, and is, Charley's War, but I'm not certain that I feel particularly influenced by Pat Mills — but I'm sure it must be there in the mix to some degree. What child that grew up in the 1970s and went on to make their own comics doesn't have Pat Mills in there somewhere?!

AJ: That's true! You do a lot of research to get tiny details right. You must come across a lot of temptingly interesting tangents. What's been the most intriguing, which might make you want to abandon what you're doing and chase fragments of a new story?

GE: Looking into the Kalasha people of Chitral was fascinating, and I did a disproportionate amount of research seeing as they only appear in a few panels, but I would be tempted to follow them up, and the myth that they might be the descendants of some of the soldiers of Alexander the Great, which I'm not sure I believe is actually true. I think it would be too close to Rudyard Kipling's The Man Who Would Be King though!

AJ: That's not necessarily a reason not to write about it, though — if it was then pretty much most comics or movies would never get made!

GE: That's true, but I think Kipling (or John Huston for the excellent film version) said it all so well already, I don't think I'd bring anything new to it.

Another thing might be the Breguet aircraft – I had a friend of mine make a balsa wood model of it, though the plane crashes in a ball of flame in volume two – so I'd like to get more use out of that and give the Tayaut family some little adventures of their own.

AJ: It would be great to see more of the Tayaut family. I love the twins; they seem like great role models for little girls: I think they probably would have been my favourite characters when I was a kid. They remind me of the character Fio in Miyazaki's Porco Rosso, being girls doing things with airplanes that weren't — and still aren't — traditionally female. In some ways that film also has a similar aesthetic (albeit from a slightly later era), which brings me to another question — animation is another medium which combines words and images, almost a bridge between live action cinema and comics. So what sort of animation do you like?

GE: Miyazaki hits the spot for me. I just watched Whisper of the Heart (for which he wrote the script) – it was a four-blub film, so beautiful. Spirited Away, Castle in the Sky and My Neighbour Totoro are masterpieces, and I remember thinking Porco Rosso probably was about the same time setting as Rainbow Orchid… late twenties? I used to really love Disney, but since discovering Miyazaki I can only watch a few of them now. Pinnochio is the best, Snow White, and I quite like Mulan and Atlantis from the later period. When I was about 11 my mum wrote off to the Disney Studios on my behalf to enquire about working there, and I got a reply letting me know how much hard work it would be!

AJ: Yeah, I'm under no illusions that doing animation is an easy job, even with computers. Speaking of work, you're working on volume 3 of The Rainbow Orchid, before it all comes out in one collection next year. What do you want to work on after that?

GE: Already plotted out is another Julius Chancer adventure. This one takes place mainly in Britain and leans more towards being a detective story, a murder mystery. It also focuses more on Julius Chancer as the central character, because The Rainbow Orchid is rather an ensemble piece, I think. I want to dive straight into that as soon as Rainbow Orchid is done.

AJ: Oooh, exciting! The 1920s and 1930s is such a classic era for detective fiction. I'm tempted to quiz you further on that, but I think I'd rather be surprised.

GE: I just hope The Rainbow Orchid does well enough to see a second story published. RO was conceived and plotted, including the ending, back in 1997. I'm dying to originate something new, with all I've learnt about comic storytelling in the past ten years.

AJ: The second Rainbow Orchid book has a couple of "origin" stories — how Lily became a Hollywood actress, how Julius ended up working for Sir Alfred — will the next book have some more of those?

GE: The only other story that gets told in The Rainbow Orchid will be Meru's story in volume 3. William Pickle's was told in The Girdle of Polly Hipple, which appeared in Accent UK's Twelve anthology, and Lily's was a longer story that appeared in The Girly Comic back in 2004. Julius's was plotted out for an anthology as well, but in the end was just summarised in RO volume 2. Sir Alfred would be the other big story to tell, but I think that will just be revealed in little snippets as we go along.

AJ: Is there any plan to collect them, or at least make them available to more people? And I'd love to know more about young George Scrubbs, Pickle's photographer. He seems like he might have some stories to tell.

GE: I haven't thought very seriously about collecting them – the Lily story just appeared in the Dutch comics magazine, Stripschrift. It was a twelve-page story that I crammed into six pages, and the Pickle story was an eight-pager that went down to four, so it would be nice to give them more space one day, though I doubt that will actually happen. George Scrubbs I haven't thought about, to be honest, but you're right, there's a story there somewhere…

AJ: This probably ties into the question above, but how did Evelyn Crow get to be so nasty?

GE: She would be the other main origin story readers would want, certainly! But actually she's probably best kept as an enigma, which she is, even to me at the moment! Maybe she'll reveal herself one day…

AJ: It seems fitting that of all the characters, she's the one who remains most shrouded in mystery. I think in some ways that's a large part of her appeal, and learning the truth about her might seem… disappointing or anticlimactic.

GE: I think you're right. Evelyn is my most common sketch request at comic shows and signings, though she does have to survive volume three yet – Nathaniel did put a bullet in her at the end of volume two!

Thanks again to Garen for the interesting conversation. Books one and two of the Rainbow Orchid are out now, with volume three to come next year. Go and buy everyone a copy for Christmas!

Last week I went to a preview of a great exhibition of Hypercomics, which has filled Battersea Park's Pump House Gallery with magical mystery and multi-directional narrative. There are strange deer-like creatures dancing on windows, blood-red masks, choose-your-own-adventure comic strips, and a comical-medical library of London, full of fake books with titles like Interesting Awning Eyelids of the Ritz Hotel And Like Edifices or Cough Cough Cough: Bus Tales.

Each floor of the gallery features a different artist working to tell stories in a completely different way, starting with Warren Pleece's animation on the ground floor, and moving upstairs via Daniel Merlin Goodbrey's multi-directional comic strips, and Dave McKeans multi-media installation, up to Adam Dant's work on the top floor. It's a great demonstration of the many different ways words and imagery can combine to tell a story.

There are also a series of outsize comics panels down in the shelter by the lake, featuring various takes by several artists, on the mythical Battersea Park Free Festival, which may or may not have actually taken place in 1974.

Here are some more photos from the night. First up here's Ed Hillyer, Warren Pleece, Woodrow Phoenix and Etienne Gilfillan on the top floor, looking over Dave McKean's installation. Ed and I ended up having a rather disgusting conversation about gallstones, which was spurred on by some of the titles of the books in Adam Dant's Doctor London installation, including discussing whether or not the removal of a gallstone was what killed Samuel Pepys. (Actually, Pepys had kidney stones, but we got them mixed up, although the conversation so disgusted us that neither of us wanted to pursue it.)

Here's Dave McKean. I was taking this picture for the juxtaposition of the two bottles when I realised he was standing behind his sculpture. (This narrative was a bit of a fiddle to follow!)

Here's Sarah McIntyre looking through one of the windows.

The windows have pictures on them which line up with the trees outside if you stand in the right place.

I'm going to have to go back and give all the stories the time and attention they deserve. Fortunately, I already have plans to go back this Sunday, because it's the day of the summer Comiket, and the list of exhibitors looks fantastic. See you there?

And of course one of the main reasons, for going to a convention — even more than buying all those lovely goodies — is to drink and talk to comics creators. Mostly to drink, to be honest, otherwise it feels like you're letting the side down. If there isn't at least one member of bar staff on the verge of a breakdown after a con, then it's because it's that very very rare occasion: enough staff and enough supplies at the bar. That doesn't happen very often.

Actually I didn't have that much to drink (just a couple of glasses of red and a Dalwhinnie single malt), but I hadn't even finished my first glass of wine before I'd introduced myself to 30 Days Of Night artist Ben Templesmith by sticking my head in his lap and giving him "a cheap thrill" (his words). It was an accident, as I'd had to crawl under a table to get to the available empty seat, but it was a perfect ice-breaker and we ended up having a very nice conversation, even if his side seemed to be peppered with non-sequiturs sometimes.

Here's Ben at dinner, in conversation with Si Spurrier.

Dinner was lacklustre as far as food was concerned (there are very few restaurant choices near the Excel Centre), but lovely as far as the company was concerned, which was the main thing. And then it was off to the bar, where I ran into Elephantmen artist Boo Cook and his missus, Gemma, who I've known for about ten years, but hadn't seen since the last time I went to a con in Bristol. We had a nice chat with Elephantmen writer, typographer and all-round-nice-guy Richard Starkings about weird 1960s teatime telly show The Owl Service (it's brilliant but very weird). Turns out Richard's 10-year-old daughter is a huge fan. I need to watch it again, actually.

After that it was the usual round of talking to old friends and new over an ever-increasing number of bevvies.

Here are Marc Ellerby and Kieron Gillen posing like the posey poseurs they are.

Not pictured is Marc's girlfriend Swedish Anna With The Assymetrical Fringe He Can Never Draw Right, who is one of the people who organises the Comics Village at Expo.

Here's Dan Boultwood, "making an effort to be good" (his words)

I wish I'd thought to get a photo of Dan and Ben together, as they almost matched, in their black suits and red ties, but I didn't — even though I think that's Ben's elbow next to Dan's. (Behind Dan is Paul Fryer talking to a bald guy I don't know). Dan was drinking absinthe, but had to take his glass back to the bar for them to add the sugar, because he wasn't allowed to do it himself for "health and safety reasons". Someone must have tipped them off about him.

Here's Ben Templesmith again, this time with Cassandra Conroy and the man they call Von Pud.

Cassie is the organiser of this year's Eagle Awards. This year they're introducing the Eagles Initiative, a special award to help fund a comics unknown, which is pretty cool. If you know anyone who should be considered, head over to the site and let them know. Pud is the lovely husband of lovely Emma Vieceli, one of the other organiser of Comics Village. The poor lass had completely lost her voice by the time we all were in the bar, so unfortunately I didn't get to talk to her.

And here's Templesmith again, this time with David Monteith from the Geek Syndicate podcast. David is one of the biggest tarts loveliest men in comics, who always gives the best hugs (he also gives good back rubs).

That Ben is such a camera hog, though! I did take other photos that didn't include him, but I believe he must have hexed the camera when it wasn't focussed on him, or at least made some concerted efforts at deliberate sabotage, because most of them didn't come out. I had a lovely one of John Allison that was ruined and blurry as Ben walked in front of the lens, and none of the pics of David came out until Ben was included in this one.

My phone started dying after that, and I had to stop taking photos, which is a shame, because I would have liked to have been able to show you pictures of Warren Ellis doing impersonations of Helen Mirren and Patrick Stewart. Not to mention the sight of Kieron Gillen, Si Spurrier and Jamie McKelvie dancing in the middle of the street to make the night bus come. They were using "rain dance" logic, which made perfect sense standing in a desolate road in Canning Town at two in the morning. Kieron and Jamie favour the Ska Attack Squad approach as made famous in an issue of Phonogram; while Si favours a cross between Cossack leaping and Riverdance.

On the night bus we came up with a crossover story featuring Miss Marvel and Miss Marple, due to Jamie mishearing me. Who wouldn't want to read that?

Lovely as the day was, I was glad to get home to my lovely bed.

First up, these are the cordons that ensured people stood in proper lines inside an otherwise giant, empty hangar. When I arrived it was back to being a giant empty hangar, but earlier in the day it was heaving with people having to queue up for at least an hour. Crazy people.

Here's Mondo Towers Tech Hero Billy (he's the one who fixes things when the site's broken) with his freshly shorn head. Those of you who know him can all join me in a chorus of "I told you so" because he looks better now.

(Nestling under Billy's chin is comics colourist Rosemary something-or-other, who I met at dinner, and comics artist Kevin Maguire who I met later in the bar.)

Here's sci-fi space princess Sarah MacIntyre at the Fleece Station table.

She's dressed like that to promote the picture book she illustrated, You Can't Eat A Princess, and apparently that dress really is made of science-fiction because it never ever needs cleaning. (Sarah's reviews of the Expo are here.)

Here's Gary Northfield, looking a bit pensive (actually he was answering someone's question, but I don't remember who or what it was).

And here are the four members of the Fleece Station studio, as drawn by Gary (clockwise from left, Sarah, Gary, Lauren and Ellen):

Here's Daniel Merlin Goodbrey looking tired and overwhelmed, because MCM Expo is a tiring and overwhelming experience. Daniel is one of the organisers of Unicomics which took place a couple of months ago, and is about to be part of a group exhibition of comics artists going up in the Pump House Gallery, so you should check that out (it opens in August, keep an eye on Paul Gravett's event listings).

Here are the lovely stars of My Cardboard Life.

Some giant banners promoting the Scott Pilgrim movie. Awesome. Watch the new trailer here! (the second one is better than the first)

This is a banner that I think is advertising a game, except that the graphics look like the record sleeve designs of a popular Britpop beat combo, and it uses a very similar same typeface as their 1990s logo. I got confused. Is it deliberate? Can someone explain it to me?

Here are some random cosplayers dressed up as people I am not remotely familiar with.

stroppy foppy

GIGANTNORMUNGOUS SCYTHE

very weird wings

<3 supervillains playing DanceDance Revolution <3

girls with beards

And here's some of my haul from shopping around the Comics Village, including the last Scary-Go-Round book; some prints from David O'Connell; the latest issue of There's No Time Like The Present, a mini-comic from Cliodhna, the first book of Far Out Mantic, and some stuff from Jarina Liew, a brand-new discovery for me, who was so engaging and friendly without being pushy, I immediately wanted to buy everything on her table (the fact it's all so very pretty also helps).

I'm annoyed that I somehow totally missed the DFC table though, because I wanted to pick up a copy of Mezolith for my mum (not that I can't buy it elsewhere, of course).

More coming in part 2!